


This Bed Thy Center

by RipUpTheEnding



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Eating, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Lazy Mornings, Lazy Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipUpTheEnding/pseuds/RipUpTheEnding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun wakes Dean and Castiel up early and lazy morning loving ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Bed Thy Center

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on my casefic but I couldn't get this out of my head. The inspiration for this story and the title are from one of my favorite poems, [The Sun Rising](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/sun-rising) by John Donne.

_Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,_

_In that the world’s contracted thus;_

_Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be_

_To warm the world, that’s done in warming us._

_Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;_

_This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere._

_~John Donne, The Sun Rising_

Dean’s lashes flutter and he blinks awake, awareness returning to him slowly. Cas is plastered to his back, holding him tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him like a damn octopus. His body is firm and sleep warm and Dean thinks that there’s no place else in this entire world he’d rather be right now… except maybe two inches to the left so the sun will stop shining in his eyes. Stupid sun. _That’s_ why he’s awake now and he’s getting really tired of this.

Why does the sun get to decide when they wake up, anyway? He’s really got to talk to Cas about putting up those black out curtains they keep talking about, but later. They can talk about that later. The sun might have roused him way earlier than any sane person should be awake but there’s no rule that says he actually has to get out of bed. In fact, Dean refuses. The sun itself will have to come down and drag Dean away kicking and screaming before he ever voluntarily leaves the comfort of his bed—of _their_ bed—and the safety of Cas’s arms.

Behind him, Cas shifts and tightens his arms around Dean’s body. When Dean snuggles closer, Cas sighs and gives him a him a tight squeeze.

“Good morning, Dean,” he yawns. His voice is sandpaper rough and Dean shivers. How Cas always manages to sound like he just had his throat thoroughly fucked is a mystery but Dean’s certainly not complaining. It’s the sexiest goddamn thing in the world. And it’s all his. _Cas_ is all his.

“Mornin’,” Dean mumbles, attempting to roll over because now all he can think about is getting his mouth on Cas and maybe making that voice even more wrecked, but Cas stops him, holds him in place. His hold is gentle yet firm, insistent, and Dean doesn’t fight it. He lets himself relax and go pliant in Cas’s arms.

Cas noses at the soft hair at the base of Dean’s skull, peppers a few kisses, and Dean shivers again. Chuckling, Cas runs his hands along Dean’s torso, touching everywhere: his collarbone, his chest, the ladder of his ribs. He thumbs at one nipple and then the other, pinches them between his fingers until they’re taut buds and Dean’s whimpering, slowly starting to rock his hips.

“Cas,” he whispers hoarsely, pressing his hips back against Cas, gasping. Cas is hard as a rock, his erection slotting into the cleft of his ass. “ _Cas,_ ” Dean groans again and presses back harder, faster, and why the hell do they both still have their boxers on because all Dean wants right now is skin on skin, Cas everywhere; on him, in him, consuming him, until he doesn’t know where Cas ends and he begins. But once again Cas stops him, firm hand on his hip, a quick squeeze as he calms Dean down, sets a tortuously slow pace, prevents him removing his boxers.

Dean whines and Cas shushes him, slides his leg between Dean’s and presses his knee right up against Dean’s painfully heavy balls. Dean lets out a noise he’s sure to regret later but right now everything feels too fucking good.

“There you go, baby. Nice and slow. Rub against me nice and slow, Dean.” Cas nips at Dean’s neck, at that sensitive little spot right behind his ear that drives Dean absolutely crazy. He soothes the sting with a swipe of his tongue and continues right on to the shell of Dean’s ear, circles it once, twice, sucks Dean’s earlobe into his warm mouth and pulls, let’s it go with an audible pop. Dean is panting now, trying desperately to increase his rhythm but Cas holds him back, keeps it nice and slow and steady.

Cas presses his knee harder against Dean’s perineum and Dean gasps on an inhale, chokes on his own fucking breath. “Need more, Cas,” Dean chokes, “ _Please,_ I need more.”

“Tell me what you need, Dean.”

“You,” he slurs. “I need you.”

“What do you need from me, Dean? You have to say it.”

He swallows thickly. “Your hand. I need your hand. Touch me, Cas. Please fucking touch me.”

Cas’s answer is to run his hand down Dean’s chest, fingers dancing and tickling and moving just as tortuously slow as their hips. It’s one hundred years before those nimble fingers finally find their way to Dean’s boxers and dip inside, but once they do Cas doesn’t waste time. He takes Dean in hand and Dean’s cock twitches. Cas shudders, his hips rutting against Dean’s ass on instinct.

“Oh, god,” Dean groans, pressing back to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can. “ _Cas… Fuck…_ ”

With his free hand, Cas tangles his fingers in Dean’s hair and turns his head. The angle is painful and awkward, but then Cas is licking into his mouth and Dean forgets to care. The kiss is soft, yet passionate, just as slow and sensual as the movement of their bodies. It’s fucking _maddening_ but it’s perfect. The whole thing is perfect. Their bodies rocking together slow and steady, their lips pliant, their tongues tasting and gently massaging. At some point later, it might be ten seconds or ten years, they break apart gasping for breath. Dean’s lips are red and swollen so beautifully. Cas presses on final kiss to them and lets go of Dean’s hair, rests his forehead against the sweat damp hair at the base of Dean’s skull.

Dean is leaking pre-come like a geyser, soaking through his boxers and covering Cas’s hand. Cas thumbs at Dean’s slit and coaxes out even more liquid. He slicks up Dean’s cock, eases the way of his hand as he pumps up and down, twists his wrist, thumbs at the slit again and then repeats. They continue to rock, just as painfully slow as ever, sweat-slick bodies sliding together as Cas gradually increases the speed of his hand. Dean whimpers and thrusts harder, forward into Cas’s tight fist and back against his cock where it’s still pressed firmly between his cheeks.

Panting, Cas pulls Dean closer, ruts against his ass so hard it hurts. But it’s also good, so fucking good, and Dean doesn’t know what he did to deserve in his life, holding him in his arms, but he sends out thanks to every god his lust soaked brain can remember, promising to thank any he forgets later when his brain is functioning at full capacity.

“Close?” Cas asks, nibbling at Dean’s earlobe when he feels his cock start to thicken.

Dean nods frantically because words are beyond him right now. All he knows are sensations, Cas’s body against his, his hand on his near oversensitive cock, the heat coiling low in his belly so close to bursting and taking him with it. “Yes,” he finally, _somehow,_ manages to get out as he sucks in air like a dying man.

Cas smiles against Dean’s neck, kisses the damp hair curling there and whispers, “Come for me, Dean. Come now.”

Dean does exactly as he’s told. He shudders in Cas’s arms, cock hardening and jumping. The thick hot liquid covers Cas’s hand and that’s all it takes before Cas is coming too. He slams his hips against Dean’s ass as he fill his boxers with his release. They rock together through the aftershocks and Dean grabs Cas’s hand, brings it to his mouth and lazily cleans his fingers, sucks each one into his silky warm mouth and swallows every drop with a contented sigh. Cas groans and his cock twitches again, pumping out one final rope of come.

They lay together panting. The air is thick with sweat and sex and it’s not long before the come in Cas’s boxers starts to cool, turn sticky and uncomfortable. He shucks off his boxers without fully letting go of Dean and uses them to cleans himself the best he can. He tries to hand them to Dean to clean up as well, but the man is already dropping off. Cas chuckles and gives Dean a quick wipe down, tosses the boxers behind him to worry about later.

With a final kiss to the base of his skull, Cas pulls Dean back into his arms. “Sleep, sweet. It’s too early to be up.”

“You’re telling me,” Dean mumbles.

But he smiles to himself as he falls asleep. Maybe they don’t need those black out curtains after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you're interested in any of my writing, original or fanfic, you can find out more here: [LivMasters.com/Me](http://livmasters.com/me/)
> 
> If you want to chat, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/RipUpTheEnding) where I spend my free time obsessing over all the things I love.
> 
> Come say hi and join the madness <3
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://ripuptheending.com/).


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